The scabbard was soft grey leather, supple as sin. Jon drew out the blade slowly, so she could see the deep blue sheen of the steel. …

“First lesson,” Jon said. “Stick them with the pointy end.” …

Arya ran to him for a last hug. “Put down the sword first,” Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses. …

“Does this have a name? Oh, tell me.”

“Can’t you guess?” Jon teased. “Your very favourite thing.”

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together.

“Needle!”

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north.